Pretending
by antinomian
Summary: Imogen should want Jack more than she wants prom photos. Jack should want Imogen more than she wants to hide. However, things aren't always how they ought to be. Will Degrassi's only lesbian couple be able to resolve their issues? Jackogen story. I don't own Degrassi or profit from writing fanfiction.
1. Family Issues

It was a Friday night, and I was home way too early. Ballet class was cancelled because the studio was rented out for the afternoon or something, meaning that I didn't even have my usual distraction to keep me busy tonight. By five thirty, my mom finally got curious about what I was doing in my room. As per usual, she opened the door without asking. Neither of my parents were particularly private people, so they tended to assume that meant I had no secrets from them. If only.

My mother noticed _West Drive_ was playing on my computer before I had a chance to close it. It was well-known that I never watched dramatic teen drama shows unless I was upset about something. She stepped over to my window and threw open the curtains, sending in a blinding wave of light. "That's better!" she said as I squinted to protect my eyes. "You look bored. Why don't you call up Imogen and have her over for dinner? I'd love to get to know your friends a little better."

I realized then that it was a mistake to say Imogen was my _best friend_. Gal pals weren't supposed to go through nasty breakups like girlfriends do. "I don't know," I said noncommittally. "She's kind of going through some stuff, and she's busy with the play."

"Isn't there anyone else you can call?" she asked.

It had been a while since I spent much time with friends I hadn't inherited from Imogen. Before Imogen came into my life, when I still thought of myself as polyamorous, casual, and uncommitted, I spent time with Myra and Jaden from the dance studio. I think Myra might have wanted something more than the friends-with-benefits arrangement we had, but she was never bold enough to say it. Jaden, on the other hand, had one of those boyfriends who "didn't mind." There was never any pressure to call myself "gay" or even ever talk about what we did together. It was just understood that nothing meant anything. Maybe that was what I needed right now.

"I'm sure there's someone," I told her. "Thanks for the advice."

My cell phone was sitting in my desk drawer. I had stopped bringing it to school because I was tired of fighting hundreds of other people to retrieve mine from one of two cardboard boxes at the end of the day. Once I woke it up, I scrolled through the contacts list for Jaden's number. After a few rings, it became clear that Jaden wasn't answering.

She had to, sooner or later. Things were so much easier with Jaden than they had been with Imogen. With girls like Jaden and Myra in my life, I could tell myself that I wasn't the kind of girl who did real relationships. I was of the opinion that parents didn't need to know about flings and hookups. It was only when things got serious that you should ever consider telling them. For a while, I told myself things _wouldn't_ get that serious with Imogen. She had just gotten out of a serious relationship a few months ago, and I figured (or maybe hoped) that it would be hard for her to move on from that. Of course, as is usually the case with Imogen, things didn't work the way I expected them to.

It wasn't enough for Imogen to just say "no thanks, I'm not poly" to me. Instead, she had to question _my_ reasons for engaging in the lifestyle. To be fair, I _did_ spring it on her without actually talking to her about it first and just expect her to be cool with it. That was probably how she knew I was just using non-monogamy to push her away. She wouldn't let that be the end of us. Even after I thought I had committed to her completely, little things kept happening. Jaden kissed me after class, and it didn't occur to me to tell her "no." Kissing was just kissing, right? When Zoë asked me to sext with boys for money, I went along with it. Breasts were just breasts, right? It was always Imogen who insisted these things _meant_ something. I criticized her for being uptight or making a big deal out of everything, but I knew she had a point. She couldn't have made it clearer if she had said "Jack Jones, I think _you_ want to be in love. You're just constantly pushing people away with this 'who cares' attitude so it will never happen."

That's exactly what I was doing, but I didn't want to stop. It shouldn't be too much to ask to have your supportive family _and_ your girlfriend at the same time. My parents weren't religious, but I knew they'd see me being a lesbian as something of a loss. I remember when my cousin came out as bisexual, they both offered lukewarm support while losing their minds with worry that he'd be beaten up or get an STD. A little worry isn't bad, but when they saw him, the way they looked at him was like _he_ was responsible for all the pain that worry caused them. It wasn't pretty, and I never wanted them looking at _me_ like that.

Interrupting my train of thought, I heard the sound of the doorbell downstairs. My mother answered it before I could even get my bedroom door open.

"Hi, is Jack home?" Imogen's unmistakable voice asked.

"I think so. Jack?" she called.

My face must have turned bright red as I rounded the corner toward the stairs and raced down them. "Imogen, what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to make sure we're still _friends_ ," she said, placing deliberate, almost frustrated emphasis on 'friends.'

My heart was racing as I looked between my mother and my ex-girlfriend, hoping that this encounter could end without my mother finding out too much about me.


	2. Secrets

I glanced between my concerned mother and my ex-girlfriend, whose facial expression told me she was on a mission and that she wasn't going home until she either got what she wanted or ruined both our lives trying. As far as my mother knew, Imogen was my best friend. Unless I wanted my family to think they raised a huge bitch, I couldn't exactly slam the door in my supposed best friend's face. I had to talk to her, and it couldn't be here.

"Great," I said, putting on a fake smile. "Why don't we _go somewhere_ and talk?" I asked, placing careful emphasis on my need to _leave_ before we had our first real post-breakup conversation.

Before Imogen could say anything dramatic about wanting to speak right here, right now (which I only imagined she would do), my mother surprisingly backed me up. "Absolutely! It's a beautiful day outside! Why don't you two go out for a walk or catch a movie somewhere?"

"That sounds like a good idea," Imogen said, her voice completely lacking enthusiasm.

A walk would at least get us out of the house, away from my mother's attentive ears. "Cool!" I responded, trying to sound excited. "Let's do it."

I then I realized that I didn't have my wallet or my house keys. Both were upstairs, and I couldn't leave Imogen here with my mom while I looked for them. "Imogen, do you want to come upstairs with me for a minute? I have to grab a few things."

"It's fine," she said. "I'll wait here. I know you like to keep some things _private_."

My heart jumped. She was either really trying to scare me or really clueless about how _not_ to rattle a closeted lesbian. Knowing things weren't going to go exactly my way, I quickly ran up the stairs and threw open my desk drawers, hoping to find everything I needed. My wallet was where it should have been, and my cell phone was still out on my bed from when I tried to call Jaden. The whole time I was collecting my things, my mind kept thinking up excuses to give my mom, in case Imogen outed me.

 _Gay? No way! Imogen has an over-active imagination. I actually have a huge crush on…_ I struggled to think of a single guy at Degrassi I had ever even talked to to much less had enough to do with for a crush to be justified. _Jonah!_ I cringed at my brain's suggestion, wondering if my parents would actually be more okay with a Christian fundamentalist who wore guy liner than they would be with a girl. When my _other_ cousin got "saved," they didn't worry like they did about Ethan, the bisexual one, but they did pass judgment.

" _I just want to make sure this is what Kaylynn really wants," I heard my mom say over the phone to my Aunt Jan. "There are a lot of those evangelical groups that really twist young people's minds. Are you sure she's making her own decision about this? I'd just hate to see her get roped into something she doesn't really want."_

Yep. That was my mother. It seemed to me like the conversation about "homophobic parents" hadn't caught up to the new generation of non-progressive neo-liberal parents. My mom shopped at _Whole Foods_ and did yogalates twice per week. She'd even come home sometimes saying that those Eastern thinkers were really onto something in terms of spirituality. My father drove a Prius and occasionally made kale salad or some other celebrity recipe for dinner. Both of them voted for liberal candidates and signed petitions about LGBT causes, but neither one of them was prepared to actually accept LGBT people into their new idea of "normal." My parents and their friends seemed to walk a fine line where they could never appear _too_ conservative (by accepting people like Kaylynn) but also never appear _too_ liberal (by accepting a queer person in the family).

As frustrating as that sounds, they were good people when causes didn't require them to change anything about their _personal_ lifestyles. When a boy tried to grope me in the sixth grade, my mom was in the principal's office raising the many layers of hell the next day. A few years ago, when some politician tried to tear down some unspoiled forest to build _another_ coffee shop in our already over-caffeinated neighborhood, my mother was on the news letting some big wig have it about his behavior. Neither of these things actually made a difference. The boy got suspended and then went right back to his old ways. The big wig still cut down the forest and built a coffee shop that was actually better than any of the others in town. It became a guilty pleasure for me after a friend got me past my initial resistance.

Weirdly enough, it was my aggressively-opinionated mother who first inspired me to use Tumblr and learn words like "heteronormative" and "non-monogamy." I always thought if I emulated her behavior and dad's behavior, I would grow up into someone they both could be proud of. Instead, trying to be like them led me places I wasn't supposed to go. By grade nine, I made a habit of actively rejecting my mother's loud-mouth behavior. Then, I met Imogen, this girl who never accepted _anything_ the way it was. Unlike my mother who mostly protested when it made social sense to do so (ie: when all of her yogalates friends were up-in-arms about the coffee shop or when it was logically the right thing to do as a parent), Imogen's protests were always personal. She saw right through whatever justifications were in place for unfair rules and rude behavior, and she relentlessly stood up for herself. Then, _that girl_ of all people told me that _I_ intimidated her.

That girl was waiting for me downstairs, so I picked my pace back up and ran, purse in tow, toward the kitchen, where I was sure disaster were striking.

"These are really good cookies, Mrs. Jones," I heard Imogen say.

"Why thank you," my mother responded. "It was actually Jack's father who found the recipe on one of those food sites. He really is a weird one. Last week, we were eating _kale_ salad, can you believe it?"

Imogen's eyes widened. "I love kale salad!"

I couldn't help but smile. Of course she did. Everything my mom seemed to wish she could be, Imogen actually was. "We better go," I told my mom.

"Don't you want a cookie first?" she asked.

"Thanks, I'll pass," I said. With this last recipe, my dad got the idea to replace butter with actual _beans_ and laughed at me when I suggested he just use vegan butter if he didn't like the kind from cows.

"Your mom seems nice," Imogen said as I shut the door.

"She is nice," I responded. "Whether or not she's _nice_ isn't really the problem."

"I know," Imogen said. "I'm not here to argue with you about that, I swear."

This came as a surprise. "You're not?" I asked, as rounded the block toward the closest park.

"No," she said, emphatically shaking her head. "I thought about what you said, and then I thought about what Becky said, and then I realized that Becky probably wasn't being fair because her relationship with Adam was totally different from my relationship with you."

"Wait," I told her. "You have to slow down. My mind doesn't go as fast as yours does."

"Okay," Imogen said, breathing. "Becky used to date this trans guy, Adam."

I stared at my ex-girlfriend in shock. "Becky _Baker_? As in super Christian Becky?"

Imogen nodded. "She liked him before she found out, and then after someone told her, she still had feelings for him. Her parents sent her to this nutso conversion therapy because they thought liking Adam made her gay. Of course, the therapy didn't work because big surprise, Becky's not gay! They got back together, and for a while, she was hiding that from her parents. It hurt his feelings, so she told me I should encourage _you_ to come out too, before _I_ got hurt. Now I'm wondering if taking advice from Becky was actually a good idea."

"It's not the same," I told Imogen. "Adam and Becky obviously broke up, and now she's dating cis guys. It's probably like it never happened for her at home now. I'm 100% gay, and that's never going to change. There's no way whoever I'm with and I will break up, and I'll magically go back to being the person my parents want me to be."

"They didn't break up," Imogen said. "Adam died in a car accident."

"Oh!" I said, stopping for a moment. "I'm so sorry. Did you know him?"

Imogen nodded. "I sort of tried to have a thing with him while Becky and Adam were still together. It was at a camp we were chaperoning, and he felt so guilty about it that he drove down a hill looking for reception and crashed right into a tree."

I frowned, never having realized how much Imogen had been through. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I'm telling you this because after Adam died, Becky kept asking me _why_ he was so desperate to text her. The real answer was that he kissed me and wanted to say he was sorry."

"But you knew that would break her heart," I guessed, "so you haven't told her, have you?"

She shook her head. "I say I'm all about honesty, but I guess I have secrets too. Sometimes it eats me alive that if I hadn't gone crazy rebounding, I wouldn't have kissed Adam, and then he'd still be okay. Even though it hurts, I've kept it from my best friend all year. If I had told her right when school got back like I planned to, I doubt we ever would have become friends."

"Wow," I said. "That's heavy."

"I guess what I'm saying is, I know what it's like to have to keep something _big_ from people you care about. I'm sorry I wasn't more sensitive."

"Well, thanks," I said.

"I still like you, Jack," she said with a sigh.

"I still like you too."

Imogen nodded gratefully. "I want us to still be friends, but as much as I _understand_ having to lie to people, I'm not sure I can do it. I hate keeping secrets, and I still feel bad for lying to Becky."

"That makes sense," I agreed. "You shouldn't have to do that."

"So, are we friends?" she asked.

"Sure," I told her. "I'd like that."

"Yay!" she shouted, in her melodramatic Imogen way, throwing her arms around me. Bringing her close made it impossible not to smell the gingery shampoo she used and how warm she was. This was going to be an interesting friendship.


	3. Double-Dates

It was getting close to dinnertime when Imogen left. My mother seemed disappointed when I returned home alone, as if she had hoped I'd invite Imogen to stay. I reminded myself that as long as I engaged in friendly chatter while we set the table, my mother wouldn't feel like I was shutting her out, even if that was exactly what I was doing.

She hurried toward the door, trying to keep her expression neutral so I wouldn't notice how concerned she really was. "Good, you're home," she said weakly. "Can you come help me in the kitchen?"

I nodded, taking off my sneakers and leaving them by the door. "On it," I said, following her into our bright yellow kitchen.

My mother returned to the stove where a pot of boiling water was starting to make noise. "Okay, okay," she said, turning the heat down and lifting the lid to release some of the raging steam. "I forgot to time it, now it's boiling over," she lamented. "Where is your father when I need him?"

I shrugged. He was probably working late or just distracted by something. Punctuality had never been his strong suit. "Can I help?"

She nodded, motioning toward a pile of napkins and silverware she had apparently set out before remembering how much attention stovetop cooking required. I picked up the bundle and placed it at the center of the table before slowly separating the knives from the forks and placing napkins in front of all three seats.

"How did things go with Imogen?" my mother asked as she poured a box and a half of pasta into the pot.

"Fine," I said noncommittally. "How was work today?"

My mother sighed as she set the stove timer for the spaghetti. "Same old," she said with a dismissive hand-wave. "How are _you_ , Jack?"

That probing question made my heart sink. "I'm fine," I said, moving toward the cabinet where we kept the dinner plates. "I've been pretty busy with school and everything, but other than that I'm doing alright."

She could clearly see through my transparent lie, but the fact seemed to make her feel more guilty than suspicious. "I feel like it has been way too long since the two of us really chatted." She took a seat at the dinner table, apparently content to let the sauce simmer for now. "So what's going on with you and Imogen anyway? Did you two have a fight?"

My normal approach would have been to deny it, but with her sitting down and listening so intently, I knew my answer needed to be at least _halfway_ true for her to believe it. "We _were_ fighting," I conceded, "but we made up."

I saw my mother get that probing look on her face that she would get any time she read a particularly enthralling mystery novel. "Oh, I see," she said with a frown. "I think I know what this might be about."

I almost dropped the plate I was holding. "You do?"

"Don't look so surprised," she said with a sly smile. "I was seventeen once."

I set the plate down and finally took a seat. "What do you think's going on?"

"Jack, think about it," she said. "You're smart, you're confident, you're talented, you're pretty, and you're probably the best cheerleader they have at that school." My mother still hadn't heard about _Degrassi Nudes_ , somehow. "When I saw Imogen the other day, I didn't want to say anything, but I think she might be the kind of girl who sees a popular, attractive girl like you and maybe feels a little…"

My cheeks were hot. Was this really how things were going to go? Had Imogen tipped off my mother's latent gaydar somehow? "Mom, it's not like that…"

"Really?" my mother asked. "You don't think she's jealous of you? Not even a little bit?"

I let out the breath I had been holding. "Jealous? Of me?"

"I'm not saying Imogen isn't pretty, but I get the sense that she just doesn't have a _clue_ how pretty she is."

That much was true. "She doesn't," I agreed.

My mother seemed pleased that I was going along with her theory. "That probably makes her feel pretty insecure around girls like you."

"Girls like me?" I asked.

"You know," she said. "Confident girls who really have it together."

I almost wanted to snort. "You're probably right," I said, struggling to maintain a straight face while inside I was dying from withheld laughter.

I then remembered how I had managed to keep my orientation a secret from my nosy parents all these years. My mother needed to know literally everything about everyone, but she was willing to get creative to fill in blanks.

When my father came home, my mother recycled the talk we had, and my father unsuccessfully tried to empathize with teenage jealousy issues. It was more of a disaster than the pasta sauce my mother put together without my father's help.

I felt a wave of relief when I saw Imogen's name on my caller ID after dinner. Even if we weren't together anymore, she was now the only major person in my life who I didn't need to keep things secret from. That alone made me eager to hear from her.

"It's Imogen," I said, grabbing my cell phone off the counter. "I'll take it upstairs."

"Good luck," my father said, obviously assuming the jealousy issues my mother invented were worse than they actually were.

Although my parents were nosy, I had never caught them listening in on my phone conversations before. I felt confident that once the door was closed, their ears would be too.

"Hi, Imogen," I said, flopping onto my bed. "How's life?"

"Good," Imogen said with a certain hesitance in her voice. "I know we just decided to be friends and maybe this'll sound weird, but do you maybe want to hang out tomorrow night?"

"Why do you sound so uncomfortable?" I asked. "Friends can hang out."

"It's not that," she said. "Well…I'm technically asking you to hang out because I'm on 'keep Becky from dwelling on the fact that she can't hook up with Jonah' duty tomorrow night."

I couldn't help but giggle at the thought of a queer girl like Imogen accompanying them to some kind of church picnic. "What's up with that?" I asked her.

"Apparently," Imogen said. "Becky came on too strong with Jonah, he got mad at her, and now she needs some cheering up."

"Came on too strong?" I asked incredulously. "I thought he was so into her that he freaking got detention for kissing her in front of Pill!"

"He did," Imogen said, "but he's abstinent from intercourse, and Becky asked him if he'd think about doing other stuff. Apparently she got some speech about how a true Christian flees from sin instead of finding loopholes around God's word."

"Wow," I said. "His beliefs are his deal, but isn't that a little harsh?"

"It's very harsh," Imogen agreed. "Apparently now he wants a _break_ from their week-long relationship so he can think about what he wants to do. This push, pull crap is reminding me so much of my ex-boyfriend, Eli."

I knew from the Adam story that Imogen was open to dating boys, but I didn't know the story behind Eli. "I see," I said. "Am I coming along to help you cheer Becky up, or to make her drama more bearable for you?"

"Can't it be both?" Imogen asked.

I knew rationally that it really shouldn't be, but I couldn't argue. "I guess so," I said. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yep!" Imogen said.

The following evening, I found it surprisingly difficult to get dressed. This was supposed to be a friend hangout, but there was a little black dress in my closet that my mom insisted on buying for me a few weeks ago, and I wanted to wear it. Some part of me wanted to look hot and remind Imogen that despite my shortcomings, I was still the sexy and confident lesbian she fell in love with.

 _God, Jack_ , I thought. _You're an awful person._

It apparently wasn't enough for me to break Imogen's heart and let her down only a few weeks before prom. I had to look like a lesbian lady-killer and rub it in too. Sighing, I decided to forgo the sexy dress and settle on a loose pair of brown pants, a pale yellow blouse, and my favorite pair of oxfords. Imogen fell for me when I was wearing something pretty similar to that, so I doubted any lingering affection she had for me would just disappear if I dressed that way again.

I wanted to laugh when I saw what _Imogen_ chose to wear to the theater. It was clear from the moment I arrived that my ex had not taken the same care to avoid dressing for a date. She was wearing a cute black dress with a flared skirt and a pink diamond-checkered pattern up top. Her smoky eyeshadow matched the black portion of her dress, and her pink lipstick matched the checker print. This was one of the classier and less eccentric outfits I had seen her in, and I faintly wondered if she was hoping to impress me the same way I had hoped to impress _her_.

Before I could even say "hello," she threw her arms around me and pulled me into a tight, uncomfortable embrace, almost as if she had forgotten that we broke up. "Wow," I said, trying to politely pull away.

"Oh, sorry," Imogen said, her smile quickly falling. "I'm really not good at this. I've never done the 'friends with an ex' thing before. Well…Fiona and I are _kind of_ friends, but that's pretty long-distance. Oh, and Eli and I hang out sometimes, but Eli's just Eli, you know?"

"Sure," I said. "What are we seeing?"

Before Imogen could answer that, Becky walked in, making her presence known. She was dressed casually in a powder blue cardigan and white capris.

"Hi, Jack," she said dryly.

"Hey," I said, trying my best to act like I didn't notice the awkwardness. "What are we seeing?"

"Jonah!" Becky said with an excited smile.

"That's not a movie," I told Becky. I saw her wave and realized that the Christian rocker himself must be somewhere in the theater.

Turning around confirmed my theory, but I almost didn't recognize him. Jonah's hair was un-gelled and neatly combed like he was Miles Hollingsworth. His eyeliner was gone, and he was wearing a preppy looking polo shirt and pair of crisply ironed khaki pants.

"Wow," I said, admiring his getup. "That's quite the surprise."

He nodded. "I know," he said, looking embarrassed. "My mom's cool with the punk rock thing, but my dad gets me on opposite weekends, so I kinda have to put that away when I see him."

I looked curiously at Becky, wondering if her boyfriend's secrets would offend her as much as mine did. There was surprise on her face but definitely not anger.

"That's so weird," she said with a smile. "People at Degrassi kept saying you had some kind of secret, and I was trying _so_ hard to guess it. First I wondered if you might be gay and then I was worried you were in the gang or something."

"Why the fudge would I be in a gang, Becky?" Jonah asked. "You know I abhor violence." He frowned. "I hope none of this changes your opinion of me."

"Of course not!" Becky said. "Everyone has secrets, right?"

This was getting to be too much for me. "Your secret is that you own a polo shirt?" I asked, unable to stop myself from laughing. "That's actually pretty ridiculous."

"Hey," Becky said. "Don't make fun of him."

Sensing the tension between Becky and me, Jonah quickly interrupted. "What are you all seeing?"

"We don't know yet," Imogen frowned.

Glancing up at the movie titles, Jonah got an idea. "When in doubt, there's always Pixar."

"I love Pixar films!" Imogen said with a grin. "We should totally go."

"You should come with us," Becky said, taking Jonah's hand. "I mean…if…you want. No pressure. I don't want you to think that I'm…pressuring you."

"That's the definition of 'no pressure,' isn't it?" he asked with a grin. Becky giggled, looking ready to jump his bones.

"Sorry…" Imogen said apologetically to me. "I know that sort of makes us like…the third and fourth wheel. You're not mad, are you?"

"Of course not," I said. "Why would I be mad?"

Of course, we entered the theater while the regular TV commercials were still going. Some soda company managed to film people pouring cola into their mouths while they were doing skateboarding jumps, and a little caption said "do not attempt," just in case someone was on their way out of the theater with a soda and a skateboard.

"I'm actually glad your secret's a polo shirt," Becky said, clinging happily to her boyfriend. "Drew really had me going with those gang rumors."

Jonah sighed. "Well, if you want to get dramatic about it, I actually do have a real secret. It's a _little_ worse than shopping at Tommy Hilfiger," he said.

"Did you forget to water your house plant once?" I guessed.

" _Jack_ ," Imogen chided.

"More than once, but that's okay," he said, looking slightly embarrassed. "Cacti are resilient. No. I had a rough start in life. Up until grade nine, my mom and I lived in a really bad neighborhood. Drugs were so common there that as a kid, I didn't even know they were bad. Anyway, I got hooked on some stuff, and I ran with a bad crowd. Then, a friend took me to his youth group and I met some people who understood what I was going through. They made me talk to their youth pastor, who actually used to work as an addictions counselor. He helped me get my life on track, and I owe him everything. That's actually how I found God."

"That's so amazing," Becky said. "It's awesome to see the change God can make in people's lives."

I wanted to vomit. Was my secret really worse than the one he was keeping? "I'm surprised you opened up to us about that," I said.

He shrugged. "Better you find out now than at next week's assembly. Pill's organizing a thing to address some of the gang issues we've had at school lately. I'm supposed to give a speech about how stuff gets better and anyone can change their life."

Deep down, I knew that Jonah deserved credit for pulling himself out of that mess. On the surface, however, I was feeling slightly resentful of how easily Becky (and Pill, for that matter) accepted his double-life. He had actually committed crimes in all likelihood, and he still got to be the poster child for good decisions at Degrassi. All I did was fall in love, and I had to keep it a secret.

"Are you…still in trouble?" Becky asked.

"Of course not," he said. "I talked to God and a couple of police officers about it, and things look like they're going to be okay."

"Wow," Becky said. "That must've been so scary."

He nodded. "Now, all that's left is for me to make up $200 to finally pay off the last of my drug debt. That's actually why I was here. I applied for a job at the theater."

"You have drug debt?" Becky asked, sounding horrified. "But…drugs are illegal. Shouldn't the cops just arrest whoever's bothering you and call it even?"

"It's not that simple," he said. "I wish it was, but I couldn't prove anything about the guys who are after me. Long story short, the manager here said he'd give me an interview and that if my background check is solid, I've got the job."

Surprisingly, Becky looked pleased. "That's great! But…what about your background check?"

"Luckily, I've never been in jail," Jonah responded. "I should be okay."

Imogen must have sensed that Jonah was done talking about his difficult past. "Do you think this one will have talking animals?" she asked. "I always like those better. I mean, let's face it. _Toy Story_ was cute, but there's nothing like _Finding Nemo_!"

"Are you kidding?" Jonah asked, looking shocked. "That movie was so overhyped. The best Pixar movie is and always will be _Wall-E_. Hands down. Loved it."

"Are you kidding me?" Imogen asked, more shrilly than was needed. "They spent like HALF that movie just yelling each other's names across space. It was _so_ annoying."

"I thought it was sweet," Jonah argued. "Besides, I loved the commentary on human society."

My ears finally perked up. "Wow, that was my favorite part of it too."

"What about _Up_?" Becky asked. "That story was so sad and so touching!"

The three of them playfully argued about their favorite movies until an inanimate object started singing on screen.

As much as I thought a children's movie wasn't the place to make out, Becky and Jonah seemed to disagree. They spent most of the movie making eyes at each other, kissing, and giggling together. It seemed that Becky's attraction to Jonah was stronger than any concern she had over his shady past.

"I'm glad you told me everything," I heard her whisper to him. "Now I feel like we can finally be together…like for real."

I couldn't help but feel bitter, knowing that his secret made him _more_ attractive to the ladies while mine made me undateable. This only increased the awkward tension between Imogen and me. By the time the movie was over, I felt about ready to jet out the door.

"So, that was weird," Imogen said to me. "I'm really sorry about that."

"It was weird," I agreed.

"We could always…tag along with _your_ friends next time, if you think it'd be less awkward," Imogen suggested.

My skin crawled nervously at the thought of letting any of my ballet friends get to know Imogen. She was single, available, put-together, and everything I wasn't. If one of them wanted her and she wanted them, I would have no business telling her not to go for it.

"Sure," I said noncommittally. "I guess so."

Imogen frowned. "Why can't I do this? Why can't I just go to a silly movie with you without everything inside my body screaming at me to kiss you already?"

"I don't know," I said, frowning. "I'm sorry."

"Of course I wouldn't just _do_ that! Consent is sexy, you know, and making out with a girl who doesn't want to make out with you is really un-sexy. I'm not a creeper or something, but I can't pretend I don't have feelings for you still." She rolled her eyes dramatically. "I _tried_ putting them on a rocket to the moon, but that didn't work out with Eli last time, and I know it's probably not going to work with you either. I knew I should've gone with Mars."

"I still really like you too," I said, "but I can't keep lying to my family."

"So…what do we do?" Imogen asked.

As much as I wanted to have an answer for her, I didn't. "I have no idea."

When I got home, I faked feeling exhausted and even threw in a make-believe stomach ache from all the popcorn I ate. I made it up the stairs without too much hassling, and then I threw myself onto my bed, where I contemplated.

It seemed like no matter which way I spelled it out, I only had one option. I needed to put some distance between my parents and myself. There was no way I could tell them I was gay when they were still pretty much all I had going for me. I imagined that once I was at university and had my own dorm room and a new set of friends, it might be easier to be someone they weren't perfectly comfortable with. That way, I wouldn't "belong" to them anymore, so it might not be as awful. The only problem was that I was a junior and still had a full year to go before I could graduate. Given how nosy they were being, I didn't want to count on lasting that whole year without shaking the family's equilibrium. That said, I had heard of people graduating early, and I supposed it was worth checking to see if it was an option for me.

First thing Monday morning, I made an appointment with Principal Pill, who agreed to meet me during my free period. The principal looked tense and possibly even upset to see me when I entered her office.

"Hi," I said awkwardly.

"Jack Jones," she acknowledged. "What can I help you with today? Are you still having problems with Damon?"

"What?" I asked. "No. He's fine. It's something else."

She took a seat at her desk, opening a giant notebook to a fresh page. "Ask away."

"I was wondering if you could tell me anything about graduating early."

Pill sighed like she got this question a lot. "Are you not liking it here at Degrassi?"

"It's not that," I said, trying not to let my disdain for the _1984_ -style police state she had created show. "I just want to consider all my options."

The principal nodded, typing some words into her computer. "Let's take a look at what credits you still have to complete," she suggested. "To graduate, you _technically_ only need three years of mathematics, although I always recommend more, so you'll be set by the end of this term. You took a lab course this term, right?"

I nodded. "I also took one at my old school in grade 9."

"Excellent," she said. "How about geography? Looks like you covered that in grade 9 as well, and you have your physical education credits from the agreement your old school made with the ballet studio. Looks like you're already good on French as well. Where you're coming up short right now is in English, civics, and career studies. I'd say you need at least one more civics class and one career studies course. More importantly, you still need grade 12 English, which is a pretty intense course. I also notice you're short on a few elective credits."

"Anything I can do over the summer?" I asked hopefully.

Principal Pill grabbed a brochure off the shelf. "English 12 is offered during the summer, but it's at a pretty accelerated pace. You'd have to read entire novels over the course of a couple days, and you wouldn't have much free-time for anything else. Even if you could take care of that one right away, you'd still need your civics credits and your electives."

I nodded. "What if I joined some classes late?" I asked. "Take something during my free period, maybe added in a computer course or two?"

"That might be an option, but the plan _would_ have to be approved by both your parents," she said. "Is everything alright at home?"

"Yeah," I said. "Totally. I just…I'm getting pretty tired of high school."

"Are you sure there isn't something else? I have cameras everywhere at this school, Ms. Jones. I see a lot of what goes on."

I froze. "How much, exactly?"

"Enough to know that you may be dealing with some challenges in terms of coming out to your parents," Principal Pill said. "I'm not obligated to share that with your family, but if it ever becomes a violent or a dangerous situation for you, please don't hesitate to come to me."

"So you can drag my parents here too and get their side?" I asked, not really thinking about what I was saying. "I think I'll pass, thanks."

With that, I got up to leave.

"Wait just a minute," she said. "Are you sure you're not limiting your options unnecessarily?"

"How?" I asked.

"If you came up with a plan to graduate early and applied for spring enrollment somewhere, you might be able to leave the house as early as next December," she said.

I shook my head. "If that's what I'm looking at, I might as well stay put."

"Well, if you're sure," she said. "The other option would be to find a pre-college program for your senior year. Some universities have special programs that would allow you to live in a dorm and get out of the house while you complete high school. A lot of them are really good and offer dual-credit, which lets you finish college faster as well. The only problem there is that most of those are pretty selective and many of those application deadlines have already passed."

I nodded. "Well, thanks for trying, I guess."

"Hang on," she said. "This isn't over yet. Let me look into it. Then, I can help you pitch it to your parents. If a dual-credit program is really what you're interested in, I don't see any need to involve your sexuality in the discussion."

"That would be awesome," I said, surprised by our strict principal's usefulness. "Thank you!"

"Any time."

Aside from Imogen (who was leaving in a couple of months) and power cheer squad (which was over, possibly for good), there was really nothing I felt connected to at Degrassi. Going to a new school, particularly one that created some distance between my parents and me, seemed like an appealing idea. My closed, empty life was starting to feel open again, and oddly enough, I had Pill to thank for it.

Near the end of the day, Imogen found me at my locker. "Maybe I can date you without making you come out," she announced suddenly. "I should at least try, right?"

"Imogen, that's sweet, but do you really think that's the right thing to do?" I asked her.

She paused. "How selfish am I if I can't even see that _you're_ more important to me than prom or yearbook pictures or group dates or…" Her voice grew softer, and she was hesitating. "You should be, right? Why am I such a horrible person?"

"You're not horrible," I said. "I wish we could get back together too, but if we're going to be together, I want it to be because I made the decision to come out, _not_ because you just decided not to care anymore."

"Are you thinking about it?" she asked.

"Not soon," I said, "but…I'm trying to work out a way."

"What kind of way?" she asked.

"I'll tell you more once I find out if it's even a real option," I said, slumping against my own locker. "What if I'm the horrible person? Did you ever consider that?"

"Why would you say that?" she asked.

"Because," I said. "If I really love you half as much as I've said, shouldn't it be no big deal to stand against my parents and just _be_ with you, for real?"

"Maybe," she said, "but if I've learned anything from dating, it's always stuff like this that ruins relationships. I should've loved Fiona enough to face my phobia of traveling, and she should have loved me enough to stay. Still…that's not what either of us did. I guess life always manages to separate people in the end."

"Then how do two people ever end up together?" I asked. "How do people end up married with kids?"

Imogen shrugged. "I don't know."


End file.
